Pieces of me

    I choose to name this blog Konnor’s Lullaby because his life was one of a sweet song. His laughter was music, a sweet lullaby.

When we first lost him I couldn’t bear to listen to music. For two weeks my world was silent. For me, music was always a part of my life. It made me happy, it helped me when I was going through something difficult, it was my healing grace. I eventually turned it back on. But it couldn’t be sad music. I had to listen to Hole or Nirvana, Zeppelin. Music that was less likely to provoke an emotional response.

Funny thing is, I fight to prevent the emotional response but I have learned that literally anything can lead me to that state of emotional breakdown I fight against every day. It’s inevitable. This is as much a part of me as anything else. The new me. In pieces.

I spend so much time thinking about how I can get back to being myself and trying to get my family to heal. We hurt so much. I have to admit that I spend so much time alone because this is how I like it. I don’t have anything to talk about to anyone. I don’t have the energy for idle gossip or nonchalant conversation.

I went away last weekend to a dear friend’s house in upper Wisconsin. It was beautiful, serene. But I ended up feeling guilty because I am not myself or who she knows me to be. Even though she has known me for many years, I am not the same. I don’t know that I will ever be. I am not the “fun” person I was. The wit and humor that I prided myself on is buried somewhere within me.

Months have passed and time has not eased the ache, it hasn’t let me resume a normal life. The death of this child has rocked my core and this may very will be what is left of me. I have been shattered. Am I wrong to assume that I can be who I once was?  I think I may be very wrong. I may find bits and pieces of my former self but I don’t believe I can ever return to my whole former self after such a tragedy.

Konnor was a piece of me. He was my daughter’s son, she is my daughter, he was a piece of me. A piece of me is forever missing.

Oh, there are glimpses of me. Every so often I will let something witty fly out of my mouth and it will get the laughs I expected. In that single moment, just those few sentences, exhausted me. I can physically feel my heart sinking all the way to the pit of my stomach. The energy I exerted to rejoin society, the land of the living, has just made me physically ill. The burning feeling in my gut is reminding me that I don’t even want to try. It’s there to remind me that my heart is screaming within me. I am not ready.

There are pieces of me that I may never be able to bring back. I believe they died with Konnor. But it is my hope that I can eventually get back out there and rejoin my little circle of friends and live and laugh again. For now, I’m in no rush.

For Konnor ~ “You don’t cross my mind, you live in it.”

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Grieving Grandmother to Konnor Mason who passed suddenly at eight years old on November 22, 2015. With this blog I hope to share my thoughts and feelings as I move forward through grief toward hope and healing.

2 thoughts on “Pieces of me

  1. This is where I am right now. I am obsessed with cleaning or yard work orrrrrr I want to be in bed and left alone. I have no joy. I hurt and ache all the time. I want to be happy, to re-join the life I had, but I cant. Like you said…..it’s to exhausting. It’s not worth it. I have found myself buying myself all of these new clothes. I NEVER bought anything for myself. Seriously, like next to never….I am not though, I guess to make myself happy? How stupid is that though? I don’t go out, I HATE to even get dressed so WHY would I do something so dumb? I can’t even understand or make sense of myself. How could I expect anyone else to? I feel terrible knowing that others feel like I do. This is a horrible, hallow shell of the me I was.

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    1. We learn to accept ourselves as this new person we have become. I have also gone out shopping to try and make myself feel better. I have learned that it doesn’t work. I rarely go out either. The hardest part for us grievers is learning to live again. It starts with a lot of help. Hugs to you. I know how you feel.

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